The Ne'er-Do-Well eBook

Twenty-four hours later Adelbert Higgins undertook
to recall what had happened to him after he left Muller’s
place on East Fourteenth Street, but his memory was
tricky. He recollected a vaguely humorous discussion
of some sort with a stranger, the details of which
were almost entirely missing. He remembered that
dawn had broken when he came out of the saloon, but
beyond that he could not go with any degree of certainty.
There was a hazy memory of an interminable ride in
a closed vehicle of some sort, a dizzy panorama of
moving buildings, bleak, wind-swept trees, frosty
meadows, and land-locked lakes backed by what were
either distant mountain ranges or apartment houses.
This last, however, was all very blurred and indistinct.

As to who was with him on the ride, or what took place
thereafter, he had no memory and no opportunity of
learning, owing to certain unexpected and alarming
occurrences which made it imperative for him to terminate
his connection with his college, as big Marty Ringold
had done earlier in the day, and begin to pack his
belongings. Partly out of deference to the frantic
appeals of his widowed mother, partly owing to the
telephoned advice of Mr. Michael Padden, of Sixth
Avenue, who said the injured man had recognized one
of his assailants, he booked passage to Japan by the
next steamer out of Vancouver. He left New York
that afternoon by the Twentieth Century Limited, taking
with him only one suit-case and a determination to
see the world.

III

A GAP

Strictly speaking, Kirk Anthony did not awake to a
realization of his surroundings, but became conscious
of them through a long process of dull, dreamy speculation.
He never knew the precise moment when his eyes opened
and sleep left him, but at cost of considerable mental
effort he finally brought himself to the conviction
that hours had passed and another day had arrived.
More than once after long, white nights in New York
City, he had awakened amid strange surroundings and
had been forced to wait upon his lagging memory; but
this time his mind refused to work, even after he
knew himself to be fully roused. So he closed
his eyes with the admonition:

“Now, begin all over again, Kirk. When
you left Padden’s place you went to Maxim’s
and listened to the fat quartette, then to the place
where the waiter held out a dollar. After the
trouble at that point, you tried to get into Tony’s
rathskeller and couldn’t, so you started for
the East Side. Ringold was very drunk. Good!
Everything is clear so far. Next you were playing
a piano with yellow teeth while somebody sang something
about a ’Little Brown Cot.’ After
that—­Lord, you must have been drinking!
Well, let’s run through it again.”

But his efforts were vain; he could recall nothing
beyond the piano, so fell to wondering what hotel
this could be.